TANKS FOR THE MEMORIES

Tank

That little Iraqi War thing was the first time the American military got to play with GPS on a large scale. Iraqi tank corps were ready….as long as it came down the road.  Out in the middle of the trackless desert, it’s easy to get lost.  GPS enabled American tanks to take off from Uncle Ibn Saud’s pool and spa, travel across hundreds of miles of open desert with no signposts, and still arrive at Saddam Hussein’s garden within a couple of yards.

One night, a trio of American tanks (one mission commander and two wingmen) were moving forward. They came to the crest of a small hill, near a bunker, spotted earlier by recon aircraft.  At the bottom of a small, bowl-like valley was a tank laager – 22 Iraqi battle tanks, parked in a rough circle, facing outward, in front of the bunker.

With 3 against 22, they might have inflicted serious damage, but with the possibility of losing one or more American tanks. Wars and battles are not won by getting killed.  The commanding officer was considering calling in the warplanes, but that would give up the glory to the flyboys, and dawn was fast approaching.  By the time the bombs and rockets arrived, these guys could be long gone.

Suddenly, one of the tankers had an inspiration. Abrams tanks can do over 60MPH on flat ground.  As the first Iraqis started exiting the bunker, there was no time to explain, or receive permission.  He just accelerated down the slope and dashed inside the ring of tanks, where he roared around a couple of times, raising a huge cloud of dust.

He now had the advantage. Everything he saw that moved, was a target, while the Iraqis couldn’t fire, for fear of hitting their friends.  Some of them scrambled for their tanks, but smashed into, and blocked others.  In the American tank, it was like shooting fish in a barrel.  Target – fire – boom.  Target – fire – boom.  Target – fire – boom.  Soft target – co-ax machinegun.  Splash one rag-head.

Suddenly in the night-vision screen, they saw a soldier running from the bunker, readying an RPG – a rocket-propelled-grenade. It’s possible that the grenade might have just clanged off the tank’s armor, but it’s better not to find out.  Too quick to activate the machinegun, the gunner simply fired the main cannon.

Rags fluttered to the ground. The 40-pound warhead, travelling at 2800 feet per second passed right through him, striking an already damaged tank.  The hydrostatic shock left a fine pink mist settling to the sand.

The other two Americans watched in awe and wonder. After about five minutes, everything got quiet.  Final score: USA-22 – Iraq-0!  One lone American tank had destroyed 22 Iraqi tanks, and heavily damaged the bunker.

Proudly, the lone wolf pranced back to the pack with no more than a few dings and scratches from bumping into, what was now, a pile of garbage. Essentially, the mission Commander told him, “I understand the need for quick action, but if you ever scare me like that again, I will shoot you myself.  By the way, here’s a commendation, and maybe a little medal.”

Technology, ingenuity and independent thinking, as well as grit and guts, prevented what might have become a nasty, protracted war, and turned it into more of a police action, with relatively few American casualties. The GroPosground-pounding infantry – are the ones who write the final chapter, but ya gotta love the tankers who clear the roads so that they can get there, and get the job done. Salute!   😎

Advertisements

Big Boy’s Little Toys

BrianRants2

After giving the best part of his life (In both senses.) to the American Army – suffering the slings and arrows, as well as the mosquitoes, camel shit and anal-retentive superiors whose assholes are so tight that, when they fart, only dogs can hear them, BrainRants® has discovered that the government bureaucracy values him as much and has the same level of loyalty as found in private industry.

A short time ago he received the highly prized little pink slip reading, “We are sorry, but your continued presence at this time is surplus to our ongoing requirements.”

In the beginning, he got to drive a tank, and blow shit up, but later found that he was required to throw his body in front of rampaging power-point presentations, injuring his shoulders, and pride.

The Government, in its soul-grinding way, is requiring him to locate and return every piece of crap they’ve issued him over almost a quarter of a century.  Unless he’s a lot slyer than even I think he is, there is probably not an Abrams tank in his garage, next to the beer fridge.

I don’t feel it’s fair that he has to leave the five-sided game-show without at least a consolation prize.  If any of you kind and computer-literate people want to start a GoFundMe or CrowdSourcing campaign, I will be happy to donate….a couple of ideas.  I might also get around to returning a few beer bottles for refund.

RC Abrams

My first thought was that we could get him one of these Radio Controlled Abrams tanks.  He could sit out on his rebuilt back deck, with a Coors Lite in one hand, and the control in the other, raising Hell with the neighborhood squirrels, and any cats and/or dogs running at large.

Ride-on Abrams

Another idea would be to get him one of these darling ride-on Abrams.  They’re $10 cheaper than the RC, but I’m afraid our boy is a bit bigger than the cute kid in the photo.  We might have to purchase a matched pair, so that he could wear one on each foot, like roller-skates, to zip him to work on future commutes.

SDC10917

A local businessman runs a surplus store.  He’s also into militaria.  I don’t know how much profit there is in carpenters’ pencils, CD jewel cases or field mess kits, but there’s enough to buy him a plane.  When I heard that he liked to get high….

SDC10920

He also bought, and parked in the front corner of his lot, a deceased tank.  If we dug deep enough in our pockets and pocketbooks, we might raise enough cash to convince him to let it go to a good home.  If Rants doesn’t have a covert Abrams in his garage, this might be the ideal DIY rebuilding project.  We could FedEx it to him, a few parts at a time.

Remember, even if he eventually gets it up and running, and in operational condition, this is a Canadian tank.  It’s only dangerous to SmartCars   😆

What do you say, people??  Let’s show him that we still love and respect him, even if he has mutated into a civilian!

Funny Bone

I’m really proud of BrainRants being what he is, and doing what he does to preserve our way of life.  He has reasons for spending almost half his life in the U. S. Military, reasons he’s admitted to himself, reasons he’s given to others.  For those of you who wonder, on June 14th, it was all explained.  These are David Letterman’s                     TOP 10 Reasons To Love Being In The U.S Army.

10:  You haven’t lived until you’ve eaten rehydrated beef brisket.

9:  You get to visit exotic places, like Trenton, New Jersey.

8:  No can opener??!  Just run over it with a tank.

7:  Sir, you’re never unsure how to begin and end a sentence, Sir!

6:  Cutting edge technology, like our machine that controls the weather.

5:  I really, really, really, really enjoy pushups.

4:  In an Apache attack helicopter, you tend to have the right of way.

3:  Always have an answer when some fool says, “You and whose Army?”

2:  Camouflage brings out my eyes.

1:  Working among the most talented men and women this country has to offer….and the free haircuts.

Geriatric Care

An old lady goes to her doctor and says, “I have this problem with frequent gas.  Fortunately, when I pass them, they never smell and are always silent.  As a matter of fact, I’ve passed gas at least ten times since I’ve been here, and I bet you never even noticed!”

The doctor says, “I see.  Take these pills, and come back to see me again next week.”

The next week the old lady comes back.  “Doctor” she says, “I don’t know what you gave me, but now my silent rippers stink like the dickens.”

The doctor says, “Good!  Now that we’ve cleared up your sinuses, let’s get to work on your hearing.”

Eco-Savings

While grocery shopping, a budget-watching, and environmentally aware university student comes across toilet brushes.  “Wow!  What a great idea!’ he thinks to himself, and buys three of them.

Two weeks later, however, after much pain and aggravation, he goes back to using toilet paper.

Spring Training

A rookie pitcher was struggling on the mound, so the catcher walked out to have a word with him.  “I’ve figured out your problem.” he told the young pitcher.  “You always lose control at the same point in every game.”  “When is that?” asked the rookie.  “Right after the National Anthem!”

Wine And Dine

Two older people were flirting at a seniors’ singles bar.  After a few drinks, the old man asks the old woman, “If I took you out for a full night of wining, dining and dancing, what would you wear?”  The old gal replies shyly, “Depends….”

“Depends on what?” he asks.  “On my butt….where else?”

Three Hymns

One Sunday, a pastor asked his congregation to consider giving a little extra in the offering plate.  He said that whoever gave the most would be able to pick out three hymns.  After the offering plates were passed, the pastor noticed that someone had contributed a $100 bill.  Extremely grateful, he wanted to personally thank the generous person in front of the whole congregation.

A quiet, elderly widow shyly raised her hand.  The pastor asked her to come to the front. He told her how wonderful it was that she gave so much, and asked her to pick out three hymns.  Her eyes brightened as she pointed to the three handsomest men in the congregation: “I’ll take him, and him, and him!”

Oh dear!  This isn’t working out well.  That’s the third old codger story in this post.  I’m like the guy from Pompeii who knows 500 lava jokes.  Distraction – distraction, I know, let’s poke fun at airheads.

Charmed

The pretty young lady had sharp pains in her side.  The doctor examined her and said, “You have acute appendicitis.”  She replied, “That’s sweet Doc, but I came here for some medical help.”

First Class Act

Kim Kardhasian boarded a plane from New York to L.A with a ticket for coach, because that was all that was available and she wanted to get back to the coast quickly.  Once she boarded, she marched up front and chose a seat in First Class.  The flight attendant checked her ticket and told her to move back to her assigned seat.

She immediately did everything except stamp her feet, hold her breath and turn blue.  “I’m Kim Kardhasian, and I’m going to sit right here, all the way to L.A.!”  Never having been exposed to a celebutant’s temper tantrum before, the flight attendant is flustered.  She goes to the cockpit and informs the Captain.  The Captain goes back and briefly whispers something in Kimmie’s ear.

She immediately gets up, gives the Captain a quick hug, and rushes back to her seat in the coach section.  The flight attendant is amazed, and asks him what he said to get her to quietly move.  “I just told her that the First Class section isn’t going all the way to L.A. today.”

And, to end on a technological note:

Clean And Reboot

The cleaning lady was tidying up for the wealthy computer-whiz.  She commented that he had a nice-looking PC.  He looked frustrated, and said, “Yeah, it’s top of the line, but with this new operating system, I can’t seem to get any of my programs to start up today.  Maybe I should let you have a look at it and see if you can figure it out.”

She replied, “I’m sorry sir.  I’d love to help you, but I don’t do Windows.”

I Would Appreciate It….

….if you would read this blog….and comment on it….and tell your friends about it.  Hello??!  Is anybody out there?  Is this mike keyboard on?

Every blogger appreciates getting comments and feedback from their posts.  We all want to know that we’ve reached someone, gave them some new information, or a new way of looking at something.  Clicking *like* tells them that we’ve read the post, and felt it was good/interesting/worthy, but, stopping to make a comment tells a blogger that we’ve been more intimately involved with their thoughts.  Whether it’s just a little throwaway joke, or a deeply philosophical review of a complex subject, writers like to know that they’ve affected someone.  The more comments they get, the more connected they feel to their readers, and the happier they are.

There’s a new spate of blog awards making the rounds.  One of my newer Best Blog Buddies, Nicole, over at www.nmnphx.wordpress.com, despite being busier than usual, both at work, and just with life in general, has had four different blog awards lobbed at her in the last week.  After reserving one free minute to take a deep breath, she has managed to deal with all of them.  As usual, the terms of all of them are that, if you receive it, you must scatter copies of it, like flower petals in the wind.

She and I have been making free with comments on each other’s posts.  I have appreciated seeing her bright words below my prosaic posts.  Apparently she has felt much the same about my inane pigeon droppings responses.  So much so in fact, that she has deemed me worthy of the prestigious Reader Appreciation Award.  This award is bestowed upon blog visitors who are regular and reasonably intelligent commenters.  Well, I got one out of the two nailed.  I’m working to be sure I have my brain in motion, before I engage my mouth.

At least all I have to do for this award is appreciate it.  None of this telling you seven, or ten, or the square root of 144 things about myself.  I’ve already listed so much stuff about me that even I’m surprised.  Aside from blogging, the last new thing that happened to me is still carved into the cave wall.  I am supposed to pass this award on to five to ten visitors to my blog who make me feel good by regularly commenting.  Five to ten sounds like a prison sentence, and I’ve already got my five hardened criminals blog-friends picked out and will notify them as I post this.  If the following folks don’t feel any sillier than I do, feel free to mosey on over to the Archon’s Corral and pick up a pretty little picture to hang on your blog wall.

I want everyone to know that I really appreciate the comments, the following, and the support of;

The delightful, and only slightly profane, KayJai at www.kayjai.wordpress.com

Ted, the IT genius, hiding behind a rock at www.sightsnbytes.wordpress.com

Repairing a wall with one hand as she holds a loaded Glock in the other, it’s http://whiteladyinthehood.wordpress.com

The gently opinionated neighborhood axe-murderess Madame Weebles at www.fearnoweebles.wordpress.com

And Canada’s native son from the land of the midnight sun, www.theharemsmaster.wordpress.com

There are a few more that I could mention, but I’m too damned lazy right now.  There’s more exciting Olympics to get back to.  If you feel your name should have been included but don’t see it, please don’t be offended.  These blog awards come around more often than door-to-door driveway sealers.  The next time I get swatted with one, I’ll list some different names.  BrainRants comes to mind, but his comments have fallen off a bit because he’s busy saving the world from power-point presentations.  After he gets back I’ll see if I can find a logo that features a tank, or at least an M9 Beretta handgun.

How you please yourself or your significant other, in the privacy of your own home is your own business, but if you want to please a bunch of bloggers, wash your hands and leave a few nice comments.  We’d all appreciate it.